


Hogwarts and the Idiot Film Crew

by CakeMoney



Series: Ennoshita's Cinematic Aspirations [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Magic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 00:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13155456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CakeMoney/pseuds/CakeMoney
Summary: “Cut,” Ennoshita called, for the tenth time. He sounded like he no longer had the energy to panic about how behind schedule they were. “Bokuto-san, please. That is a wand, not a lightsaber.”“I’m holding it like a wand!” Bokuto protested.“He means you need to stop makingwhrrr whrrrsounds every time you wave it,” Kuroo explained.





	Hogwarts and the Idiot Film Crew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kirabethstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirabethstar/gifts).



> THIS IS SO LATE I'M SO SORRY this is for Kira's birthday, which was over four months ago, you deserve so much better but here it is finally, happy late birthday <3
> 
> check out [the adorable kagehina she drew](http://kirabethstar.tumblr.com/post/159403148156/ahhhh-omg-ok-i-made-it-in-time-cries-happy) for the Hogwarts AU we tossed back and forth!!
> 
> also, an explanation: this isn't technically a hogwarts AU; rather, it's what I imagine goes on behind the scenes of every Hogwarts AU I read. it might make more sense if you read Karasuno Magica before this, but then again, it might actually be even more confusing. I guess what I'm saying is... good luck
> 
> Also HUGE thank you to [lomeki](http://lomeki.tumblr.com/) for helping me with so many things, I couldn't have done it without you

 

**10 a.m.**

 

The boarding school was located in the scenic mountains of Scotland, flanked by a glittering lake and dense forests. It’s a massive castle, full of history, and everything was maintained with magic: the lawns, the libraries, the fireplaces. The towers seemed to be in different places every time, so the silhouette never looked the same.

Futakuchi hated it.

“This is an insurance nightmare,” he muttered to himself. He would be telling this to Ennoshita, except he’d gotten lost trying to find Aone, who had probably gotten lost chasing a cat or something, God only knows. The moving stairs made it impossible to map out emergency exits. The giant spiders that sometimes appear under mysterious trap doors—not, of course, that Futakuchi had been opening random trap doors just to see if they were locked—were definitely poisonous. Also, this morning a dragon burst out of the forest and almost ate someone.

Futakuchi was immensely relieved that classes weren’t in session, because from what he’d seen, the labs had no safety measures whatsoever—gloves, goggles, aprons, anything—making this entire mansion one giant fire hazard. A very expensive fire hazard.

Was this really a school? How did students not die all the time?

Or was _that_ what the book was about?

Right as he kind of recognized where he was going—the Great Hall was ahead of him, so the doors leading outside should be right around the corner—the stairs shifted under him. The stone groaned as it turned, and Futakuchi groaned, too.

“Is this still because I sneezed on one of you yesterday?” he shouted at one of the passing paintings. The people in them—knights gathered around a table—flipped him off in sync. “I said I was sorry! Nobody’s dusted this place in, like, twenty years!”

The stairs did a one-eighty and screeched to a halt in front of a dark hallway. All the hallways were dark, and all of them looked the same. “This better not be that creepy girl’s bathroom again,” Futakuchi called.

No response. There had been a ghost that followed him around yesterday, laughing hysterically at everything he did. (If Futakuchi spoke even a shred of English, he might have gotten along with that guy.) But today, Futakuchi was alone—maybe the ghost had ghost errands to run, ghost paperwork to file, who knows—which made this whole mess feel a lot more ominous, a lot more like Futakuchi was one of those unnamed characters who showed up at the beginning of horror movies to die.

Oh God, Ennoshita wasn’t working on a horror movie, was he? Surely he didn’t have the stomach for that. Futakuchi couldn’t die like this, he was supposed to be on _vacation_ , he just wanted to visit his friend and see what super-secret-super-awesome project he was up to, he didn’t _deserve_ this.

Everything was too quiet. Futakuchi had to say something.

“If I die in here, I’m going to come back as a ghost and fight your ass,” he told the gargoyle as he passed it. Even though he hadn’t meant to be particularly loud, this time, the castle magnified the echoes, bounced his words back at him hard enough to make his sternum vibrate. “I mean it,” he continued. “I used to play volleyball, I’ve got pretty strong arms.”

As he walked, a light appeared in the distance and started to grow larger. Futakuchi was relieved to see that it wasn’t yet another spooky chamber with giant dead snakes; instead, it looked like a warmly lit kitchen, mostly empty except for twenty-something food safety violations and Aone, in the corner.

“Aone!” It felt like it’d been years since Futakuchi had seen another living human being, and Futakuchi wanted to jump into his arms dramatically, except there was someone else there. “How long have you been here?”

Aone looked up, shrugged, and looked down at the person sitting by him—much shorter, with long bangs and hands tucked in a black robe with blue stripes. “Hey,” Futakuchi greeted. “You’re one of the actors—Kenma, right?”

Kenma wrinkled his nose. “Yeah.” He eyed Futakuchi suspiciously. “Are you here to take me outside?”

“I don’t even know where outside is,” Futakuchi assured him.

“Good.” Kenma pulled a 3DS out of his robe. Next to him, in the wall, was a miracle: an actual electrical outlet. “They probably haven’t noticed that I’m gone.”

 

* * *

 

**10 a.m., Outside**

 

“Where the Hell is Kenma?” Akaashi hissed. “He’s going to be in the next scene, I need to do his makeup.”

“Don’t worry,” Kuroo murmured. “This is going to take a while.”

“Cut,” Ennoshita called, for the tenth time. He sounded like he no longer had the energy to panic about how behind schedule they were. “Bokuto-san, please. That is a wand, not a lightsaber.”

“I’m holding it like a wand!” Bokuto protested.

“He means you need to stop making _whrrr whrrr_ sounds every time you wave it,” Kuroo explained, as Akaashi hurried forward to dab at the sweat on Bokuto’s neck.

Bokuto’s face crumpled. “I was still doing that?”

“And Oikawa-san,” Ennoshita continued, as Bokuto dramatically fell to his knees. “Please stop glaring at Kageyama. You two are on the same side in this fight.”

“He started it!” Oikawa snapped.

“That’s just what his face looks like, you know that,” Ennoshita said.

As Oikawa rehashed his tirade about how much he didn’t want to work with _these people_ and how he was only here because Suga tricked him with dinner, Kuroo tried texting Kenma again and looked over the schedule, which at this point he might as well burn. This production had been doomed from the beginning; it was even worse than that play back in college, which had been literally cursed, and Kuroo had to wonder if this particular group of people was just not meant to work together.

(He _told_ Ennoshita that involving Oikawa would be a bad idea, for so many reasons, but Ennoshita had remained convinced that Oikawa’s natural, photogenic charm would be the only thing that could conceal how terrible this film was going to be.)

At long last, Oikawa’s whining subsided and Ennoshita got everyone back to the beginning of the scene. Kuroo checked his phone again as the cameras rolled.

“Still no Kenma?” Akaashi whispered. “Shouldn’t we look for him?”

Kuroo shook his head, mentally tracking all the things that’ll need to be moved around if they were going to not have Kenma today. “With all those moving stairs, we’ll just lose anyone we send in.” He saw Yaku and waved him over. “No word from Inuoka?”

Yaku groaned. “Nothing, and now nobody can find that cat that he’s supposed to be taking care of for the next scene. This is a _mess_.”

“Don’t worry about that, we’re going to reschedule,” Kuroo said, but Yaku was already storming off. He turned back just in time to see Bokuto wipe his chin with his robe.

Akaashi straightened abruptly. “I need to touch up Bokuto-san’s makeup.”

Kuroo grabbed his arm before he could disrupt the filming. “Akaashi,” he sighed. “I understand, I really do, but could you try to keep your hands off Bokuto for, like, two minutes?”

“I’ve got you!” Bokuto shouted, dramatically flourishing his wand. Ennoshita had made the executive decision early on to not bother trying to teach Bokuto how to pronounce the Latin spells. “Whrrroooooo—”

Oikawa flung his hands in the air. “Seriously? Again?”

Ennoshita sighed. “Cut! Oikawa-san—”

“Come on,” Oikawa plowed on, as though Ennoshita hadn’t spoken. “I could be working on a music college drama with angsty piano right now, this is a waste of my time!”

Bokuto blinked, eyes wide, unusually taken aback, and Akaashi shot Kuroo a warning look— _imminent dejected mode, do something!_ Kuroo tried to think fast—buy them some time, diffuse the situation, keep everyone focused—but what actually came out of his mouth was: “You wouldn’t look good with a piano, anyway.”

Akaashi covered his face with a hand.

Oikawa almost shrieked in outrage, and then there was a lot of yelling and a lot of finger pointing and Iwaizumi had to be called before Oikawa attempted to throttle Kuroo. Sugawara calmly arrived, shutting everyone up with a look, and asked, “Are we still on this scene? Shouldn’t we be moving on?”

Tanaka piped up. “I think the footage from the last take is usable, do you want to just have them voice over it later?”

Ennoshita pursed his lips—he hated things like that, called them _unauthentic sleights of hand_ or something, as though the movie industry was otherwise the paragon of truth—and glanced at Sugawara nervously. “I’d like to keep trying, if we have the time? I mean, how much worse can this get?”

As if on cue, there was a deafening _thwack_ and Shibayama screamed, “Yaku-san!”

 

* * *

 

**10:30 a.m., Still Outside**

 

Tsukishima closed his eyes, took a deep breath before he opened them and looked at Shibayama. “Sorry, explain again what happened?”

Shibayama swallowed. “Uh, the tree that punches people. Yaku-san tried to fight it.”

Tsukishima had to take another deep breath, but the truth hadn’t become any less ludicrous, so he turned to relay it to the police officer in English.

“The cat was in it!” Shibayama quickly added. “We needed it for Kenma-san’s scene!”

Unbelievable. “There was a cat in the tree,” Tsukishima explained, wondering what he did to deserve this and if he should just retire from this asinine career and become a goat cheese farmer in the mountains. It would be less stupid than whatever this was.

The police officer glanced up at the sky, back down at his pad. “Uh, alright,” he said. “It doesn’t look like the tree was damaged, which is good, and your friend is on his way to the hospital now. His condition was stable, he should be fine.”

Tsukishima nodded, and translated everything for Shibayama, Sawamura, Ennoshita, and Kuroo. “Thank you, sir,” he said, as everyone nodded very cooperatively.

“Yeah, great,” the officer said absentmindedly, looking up at the sky again.

When he made no move to leave, Tsukishima asked, “Is something the matter?”

“Um.” The police officer tapped his pen against his chin, squinting at the sun and then at Tsukishima. “This is going to sound weird, but is this weather natural?”

 _Oh, fuck_.

Whoever got the studio the right to film on site had evidently failed to account for weather; the first couple days here had been plagued by rain, ranging from dreary drizzling to solid sheets of water, until Kuroo had remembered that the last time Kageyama and Yamaguchi had worked together, they had managed to use their magical powers to create artificial snow. It took a bit for them to figure out how to reverse that process, but ever since then they’d been keeping the skies clear so that they didn’t have to film in raincoats.

Of course this would come back to bite them, now, of all times. Of _course_.

Tsukishima explained the officer’s confusion to Sawamura and Ennoshita. Sawamura eyed the officer. “Is it against the law? Did he say?”

“Do you think we could get away with lying?” Ennoshita added. “Like, how weird is it for it not to be raining?”

Sawamura rubbed his temple. “Ennoshita, we are not going to lie. If we lie to a _police officer_ , we’re as good as fired.”

“Right, yeah, it was just—hypothetical.” Ennoshita swallowed, looked over his shoulder. “Where’s Futakuchi when you need him? I’m sure he’d love to have a fit about this.”

“Is your crew manipulating the weather?” the officer asked, eyes narrowed at the Japanese exchange. “Do you have a license for that?”

In short order, Yamaguchi was summoned and ordered to stop what he was doing until further notice, and the crew barely had enough time to break out the umbrellas and tarp before everything was drenched in rain again. The officer interrogated him (through Tsukishima, unfortunately) on the type of magic used, how many days they’ve done this, where exactly they directed the rain clouds. “You’re going to have to pay a fine,” he said, wiping his sopping hair out of his eyes. “I don’t expect that you’ll ever be approved to film here again.”

Thank God, Tsukishima thought. Outwardly he just said, “I’ll let them know, sir.”

“I can’t believe this is illegal,” Kuroo complained. “How were we supposed to get anything done?”

“Oh please,” Oikawa said, before Iwaizumi could cover his mouth. “As though _that’s_ the reason we’re behind.”

“Does anyone know where Kageyama went?” Sawamura called to the rest of the crew, busy trying to move the equipment indoors. “The police want to talk to him as well.”

“Yes, the contact that we have with the Scottish government,” Sugawara was saying into his phone. “I need a license to manipulate weather, how soon do you think they could get that done? Oh yeah, and the fines—”

“Are we going to have to film indoors, now?” Ennoshita asked, clearly grumpy. He watched Akaashi hold an umbrella over Bokuto to preserve his hairstyle, leaning heavily on his arm. “We were just starting to get somewhere with Bokuto, too.”

“Uh,” Tsukishima said, turning back to the police officer. “They’re all saying how sorry they are. Sir.”

 

* * *

 

**1 p.m., Great Hall**

 

Once everything was sorted to the police’s satisfaction, everyone gathered in the Great Hall for a late lunch break while Sugawara worked on getting them temporary permission to stop the rain. They hung up their robes to dry by the wall—Ennoshita had insisted everyone on set wear the school robes, in case any of them were caught on camera—and sat down in clusters to eat their cold, slightly wet sandwiches that Konoha had bought at the closest town three hours away.

“I’m quitting after this,” Konoha promised, wrinkling his nose at the soggy chips. “I’m never working on any movies ever again.”

“Come on, Konoha-san,” Akaashi said. Konoha was the production accountant; he’d sworn that he would quit this industry every day for the past five years. “This one is just bad because of all the executive meddling.”

The author of the books had been deeply involved from the beginning. Ennoshita had briefly let slip that she practically wrote the script over Takeda’s shoulder, and apparently she called the studio for updates and new requests so often that Sawamura decided that it’d be faster if he just stayed on site to execute her instructions. Akaashi didn’t know what movie rights for books usually looked like, but he was pretty sure this was not normal. Plus, he’d overheard some of her more ridiculous demands, and he couldn’t imagine Sawamura going along with this if his hands weren’t tied with incredible amounts of money.

“I just hope it’s over soon,” Konoha grumbled. “I never want to be here ever again.”

Akaashi blinked in surprise.

Konoha glanced at him. “What?”

“Have you not—ah—heard of the books?” Akaashi asked delicately, staring at his sandwich.

“Books? There’s more than one?”

Akaashi stared at him. Surely Konoha was kidding. Surely Konoha knew what they were actually doing here. “Seven. There are seven books in the series.”

Konoha choked on the chips. “What?” he asked, coughing. “I thought—I thought this was a documentary. Isn’t that Ennoshita’s thing?”

Akaashi remembered Ennoshita calling him, apparently right after his meeting with the studio executives, nervous that he wouldn’t be able to pull off an actual blockbuster movie after so long making indie films and shaky camcorder projects. “It’s an adaptation of books that were based on true events. Ennoshita… may have some trouble telling the difference.”

Konoha stared into the middle distance, where the black robes were dripping, where the puddles were starting to get close to the crew. Akaashi considered telling him more—how massive the fanbase was, how many copies it sold—but Konoha seemed to be more than capable of doing the math himself.

“I had no idea this was so big,” he finally said. “I just thought this had an unusually high budget.” He frowned. “Wait, but then—Oikawa I can understand, but everyone else—”

“Hey, have you guys seen Hinata?” Kuroo called, jogging up and nearly slipping on his wet shoes. “He’s definitely supposed to be here today.”

Konoha and Akaashi looked at each other. “We haven’t seen him,” Akaashi said, only slightly lying.

Kuroo clicked his tongue. “He’s not in his trailer, either. First Kenma, now this. God knows who else will be missing by the end of the day.” He turned away, calling out: “Tsukki! Don’t try to run, I saw you, where are you going?”

As they watched Kuroo jog away, Konoha leaned over and murmured: “Still good with your bet?”

“Please keep your voice down, Konoha-san,” Akaashi sniped.

“I’m just saying, two weeks is a very conservative estimate, with everything I’m hearing,” Konoha said, grinning, apparently entirely recovered from his brief panic of having to return here six times. His grin didn’t waver even as he took a bite from his sandwich and then spoke with his mouth full. “Some people have money riding on _today_.”

They both watched Kuroo make his way over to Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Oikawa said something—probably not what Kuroo wanted to hear, since Kuroo wagged a finger at him like a school teacher. Other people had stopped to watch with interest, notably: Sugawara, smiling serenely; Iwaizumi, who remained seated and did absolutely nothing; and Tanaka, who might actually be praying.

“I know what I’m doing,” Akaashi finally said.

“You always do,” Konoha agreed.

Oikawa was attempting to strangle Kuroo with his scarf. Akaashi sighed deeply.

 

* * *

 

**2:30 p.m., by the Lake**

 

The student body of the school was divided into four Houses, which then competed with each other for points based on academic achievement, good behavior, and sports. Or, rather, one sport, which involved brooms and balls of various sizes and very tall hoops.

Bokuto and Tsukishima were not on brooms, thankfully; Sawamura had used his Executive Veto on actually filming in the air, so the sports scenes—among many others—would be saved for the green screen. Instead, Tsukishima was simply trying, very hard, to not hit Bokuto with one of those balls while acting as though he was trying to hit Bokuto with one of those balls.

“Do we have to do this _now_?” Sawamura asked.

“With so many of the main cast missing, we might as well get this over with,” Kuroo responded, scribbling on his notepad.

“I should fix Bokuto-san’s hair,” Akaashi said, when the rip in Bokuto’s robe exposed his thigh, and Kuroo and Sawamura each grabbed one of Akaashi’s arms.

Sawamura sometimes wondered if they should have chosen better people. People Oikawa would have gotten along with, if Ennoshita was so insistent on the power of his charisma, or people who would not create unnecessary sexual tension on set. He wondered if he should’ve said no to Bokuto’s request to hire his old friends for the crew, if he should’ve let Bokuto be here in the first place. He’d even wondered, at one point, if things would be easier if they could just convince certain parties to sleep with each other. But no, he’d known that this was the kind of production this was going to be since the first day, when Akaashi had accidentally blurted _You’re only an actor because you’re hot_ and then, in his panic, decided to punch Bokuto in the face. Sugawara only let him off easily for it because, as the makeup artist, it would be Akaashi’s job to cover up the bruise anyway.

“I’ve got him,” Kuroo mouthed over Akaashi’s head. Sawamura nodded and moved away—he wasn’t sure he wanted to be around these particular people during the next few takes—and found himself next to Oikawa.

“Sawamura-chan!” Oikawa said, smile dialed up to eleven.

“No, your contract does not allow you to back out in the middle of filming,” Sawamura said. “Suga already told you and Iwaizumi six times.”

Oikawa sighed, dropping the pretense of friendliness; they both watched Bokuto trip over his own feet and fall, and then Akaashi practically sprint to him.

“I still don’t understand why Ennoshita casted him,” Oikawa griped, arms folded. He could—and had—pulled all kinds of excuses for his dissatisfaction, but Sawamura knew that the fact that Bokuto was playing the main character was at least a major contributing factor. “He was actually a pretty competent set designer, why isn’t he doing that?”

Sawamura swallowed. “Conditional financing,” he finally managed.

Oikawa stared at him. “Condi—what do you mean? Someone _bought_ Bokuto a role? Why?”

“I’m not really supposed to talk about it. I signed an NDA.”

“Does this have to do with that one time he showed up as an extra on that magical girls show?” Oikawa demanded. “Are those fans still at it?”

Sawamura cleared his throat.

“What the fuck?” Oikawa turned away, apparently too angry to speak further, but then promptly spun back towards Sawamura because ranting was probably Oikawa’s favorite hobby and no amount of indignation could stop him. “Why did you agree? How much money was it? What other conditions did they have?”

And right then—Sawamura braced himself—Bokuto, emerging from the lake, pulled his shirt over his head.

A few things happened in quick succession: Akaashi’s legs folded under him, and he dropped to the ground, scattering his supplies; Kuroo bumped into one of the pavilion poles and promptly brought the entire tent down with him; Sugawara covered Yamaguchi’s eyes quickly, for some reason; and Konoha, Tsukishima, and—interestingly enough—Tanaka all suddenly sported nosebleeds.

As Ennoshita quickly yelled _cut_ and called for Akaashi to fix Tsukishima’s makeup, Sawamura handed Oikawa a napkin. “Wouldn’t want Kuroo to be jealous,” he murmured.

Oikawa blinked at him as he wiped drool from his chin. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s—never mind.” Sawamura looked for something to change the subject, and found it, as Shibayama and Haiba came running from the direction of the castle. “Hey,” he said, when they skidded to a stop in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” Shibayama said, face red, breathing hard. “We found Kageyama. And Hinata.”

“They were in the same place!” Haiba added cheerfully.

 

* * *

 

**3 p.m.**

 

Kageyama and Hinata were seated five feet apart, on opposite ends of a bench, resolutely avoiding each other’s eyes. What they had actually been doing was unclear and probably going to be the source of lunchtime speculation for weeks; Shibayama was too embarrassed to elaborate beyond _they were in a closet_ , Haiba had apparently barely caught a glimpse before Shibayama slammed the door shut, and Ennoshita found that he did not particularly want to hear this information from either party.

Kageyama adjusted his robe, squirming under everyone’s gaze. For some reason, Ennoshita was fixated on it.

“You know,” Akaashi said, contemplative. “I was kind of bracing myself for something like this, but I really didn’t think it was going to be you two.”

“You of all people do not get to say that,” Kuroo snapped.

“How long has this been going on?” Sawamura demanded. “Oh, God, nevermind, I don’t want to know.”

“Your personal life is your business, you can do what you want,” Sugawara said, in simultaneously the softest and the most deadly tone Ennoshita had ever heard from him. “But this is a very tightly scheduled production, we only have a limited amount of time on site, and it is imperative that you are where you need to be when you need to be there. Is that understood?”

In the corner of the room, Oikawa might be laughing or crying, it was hard to tell.

Hinata ducked his head; the sight felt incredibly strange. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “I just—he was right there—I lost track of time!”

“I honestly don’t know if that makes it better or worse,” Narita said under his breath, and Tanaka had to choke back a laugh.

“What were you guys even doing inside?” Sawamura asked, right as Kuroo said: “Did you two happen to see Kenma anywhere?”

Sugawara continued to lecture them, and the peanut gallery continued with their comments, but instead of worrying over how nobody was going to be able to concentrate for the rest of the day or wondering how this would affect the cast’s onscreen chemistry, Ennoshita just kept staring at Hinata’s collar, couldn’t tear his eyes away for some reason.

Something wasn’t right.

“Hey,” he suddenly said, interrupting whatever Sugawara was talking about (he caught the words _safety_ and _professionalism_ at the edges of his concentration). “Are you two wearing the right uniforms?”

Both of them blinked in surprise, then looked down. The school robes were so loose that it was hard to tell whether or not it fit right. Hinata grabbed his green tie. “Uh—”

“You were supposed to be in the red house, weren’t you?” Ennoshita pressed. He was sure of it—Hinata was going to be in the Jock Asshole clique, Kageyama was going to be in Oikawa’s house and have that whole senpai-kouhai subplot, the two of them were supposed to play out some kind of background rivalry. “Help me out here, guys, which houses were their characters in originally?”

“You’re right, they switched,” Tanaka agreed, snickering. “What were you guys up to in there?”

“No, Hinata’s always worn green,” Tsukishima said, wearing his _I can’t believe I’m defending him_ expression (he had it more often than one would expect). “He stood right next to me in those crowd scenes from the third day, remember?”

“Akaashi, you did the costumes,” Kuroo said. “What was it?”

Ennoshita watched both Kageyama and Hinata grow impossibly redder as the argument mounted. Bokuto insisted that Kageyama had been part of the red team during the part of the sports match they filmed at the field, and Oikawa countered that Kageyama sat at his table during the lunch scenes, and the truth was incredibly clear to Ennoshita. He went through the five stages of grief so quickly that he might need a few weeks to recover from mental whiplash.

“Guys, guys,” Sugawara said, holding up his hands. “Let them talk, they should know their own characters.”

“That robe is way too short for Kageyama,” Yamaguchi pointed out. “All the robes reach the ankles.”

“But there’s no way Kageyama’s robe would fit on Hinata,” Tsukishima said.

After what happened to Yaku, after having to halt filming for the police investigation, after having to redo Bokuto’s lake scene over twenty times, Ennoshita had thought that nothing could surprise him.

He was an idiot.

“Oh, my God,” Sawamura said, rubbing his temple. He turned back to Kageyama and Hinata and repeated: “How long has this been going on?”

 

* * *

 

**5 p.m., Back Inside**

 

“Hey,” Iwaizumi called, hesitating in the kitchen entrance. “How long have you guys been in here?”

Kenma glanced up from his game briefly, said nothing. The others were more than happy to answer for him. “Kenma and Aone and I have been here since morning,” the tall brown-haired one explained. “Inuoka got here around lunchtime.” He got to his feet with a grunt. “I’m Futakuchi. Friend of Ennoshita’s. You’re Oikawa’s manager, right?”

Iwaizumi sighed. “Unfortunately. I’m Iwaizumi.”

“Condolences,” Futakuchi said, shaking his hand. “You’re just in time to join us for dinner! Aone’s making fried chicken and pie.”

Iwaizumi looked over; sure enough, Aone had a tiny pink apron on and was pulling something out of the oven. “Wait,” he said. “You guys have just been sitting in here? Shouldn’t we try to get back out to the crew?”

Futakuchi shrugged. “Eh, what’s the point? This kitchen is super well-stocked. We had spaghetti and potato soup earlier. Aone even made tiramisu for afternoon tea.” He grinned at Inuoka. “That was awesome, right? Tea is a thing British people do, right?”

Iwaizumi checked his phone—no signal—and pondered this. “So… what, we’re just going to live here until they mount a rescue mission?”

“That was our plan,” Futakuchi agreed. “Hey, have you ever played Animal Crossing?”

Before Iwaizumi could say anything, Futakuchi launched into a long-winded explanation of the (fairly one-sided, it sounded like) debate he was having with Kenma and Inuoka over their favorite villagers. “I made a slide deck,” he added.

“It was a great slide deck,” Inuoka said loyally.

Iwaizumi looked over at Futakuchi’s laptop, which was showing 1. A lovely graph made in Excel and 2. That there was wifi access. He briefly considered pointing out that they could’ve sent an email or messaged someone on Facebook hours ago.

“Hey, Iwaizumi?” Futakuchi said. “Are you okay?”

Iwaizumi blinked; mentally shook off any thoughts of Oikawa. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to see him till morning. “No, yeah, I agree completely.” He sat down by Inuoka with a sigh; a cat slinked out of a corner and made a running leap into his lap, and Iwaizumi had absolutely no energy left to question it. “It’s just—man, you will _not_ believe what happened out there.”

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Title: You're Only An Actor Because You're Hot
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this Kira!! so sorry for how late this is, I promise next year it won't happen again!
> 
> feel free to hit me up ([tumblr](http://cakemoney.tumblr.com)) to ask for recommendations for actual Hogwarts AU fics, there are so many lovely ones in this fandom! alternatively you can yell at me about how much this doesn't make sense, that's totally fair


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